Butterflies
by iJewel
Summary: It all started with a fluttering in her stomach. It all started when he questioned the path he chose for himself. It all started with a mutual love for music. It all started with a duet. A Sebtana fic. Rated T because I'm extremely paranoid.
1. PROLOGUE

**A/N: I would love to thank the lovely Laura (whatareyourunningfrom), who writes epic harrypotter fanfics, since she helped me out with this and gave me her much needed reassurance and feedback. So Thanks Laura! Ooh and don't forget to check that awesome girl's profile!**

**Anywhoo, please read and review this little prologue of mine (I promise to write longer chapters in the future) since reviews encourage me to post quicker! Let the fun begin!**

**PROLOGUE**

Butterflies.  
That's what I felt fluttering around in my stomach.

_Butterflies? Seriously, Santana? _I wanted to kick myself so badly.

I had walked in here so confidently with my head held high and

in a sexy black dress I had tossed in the back of my closet and little black booties, not really thinking that something like this could happen.

Then, I saw him walk into the room with the other Warblers and when his eyes fell on me a smug look started to plaster on his face…

and I wanted to slap it off so badly.

"Hey, Andrew McCarthey!" I called out, walking across the chair filled room.

He just stood there and stared at me intently, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, as I continued, "I don't know if you heard but Blaine may lose an eye."

He let his arms cross in front of his chest in an almost defensive manner.

"The same Blaine who was just besties with most of you…" I said finally face to face with the group, "not four months ago."

"Wait." A fat kid in an extremely tight school blazer exclaimed, "Are you serious? Is he gonna be okay?"

"Well, sure" I almost snorted at his naiveté, "If he doesn't mind seeing in three dimension."

I tried to no avail to get the little Bitchlet to confess blinding Blaine, asking him whether he had put asphalt or glass in the slushy, so I could get it on the tape recorder I cleverly placed underneath my boob so I could hand it over to the police.

Sebastian all but ignored my allegations, turned to the boys, and ordered them to leave since World War III was on the verge.

I walked away, my heels colliding loudly with the wooden floor, and placed my fine ass on the ugly yellow chair, waiting for him.

I crossed my long legs, giving him a look that telepathically said, 'Game on, bitch.'

And so, our duel commenced…

The Cellists began playing the beautiful yet intense notes to MJ's _'Smooth Criminal'_.

Sebastian stalked around the chairs across me, looking like a loin hunting for its prey.

I raised my head in confidence, trying to show him I wasn't going to be the hunted but instead the hunter.

"_**As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo.**__" _As soon as he opened his mouth, showing off his masterful voice, mine almost dropped.

_Focus, Santana,_ the thoughts rushed to my brain warily,_ he's just a stupid yet _kinda_ cute gay kid and you can kick his ass in a sing off any day._

My breath hitched in my throat as he stood behind my chair, his expensive cologne making it's way up to my nose.

"_**He came into her apartment…**__" _He sang as he leaned down, his breath tickling my ear, making my face feel hotter, "_**He left the blood stains on the carpet**__." _He continued, sliding the palm of his hand from my shoulder all the way to the bare crook of my neck, making my skin tingle oddly.

Soon enough we began playing cat and mouse, chasing one another in the maze of chairs, going left and right, up and down.

It was a heated battle, of course, but our voices did all the passionate fighting, melting together in the air.

_**Annie, are you okay?**_

_So, Annie, are you okay?_

_**Annie, Are you okay? **_

_So, Annie, are you okay? _

_**Are you okay, Annie?**_

_Annie, are you okay?_

_**So, Annie, are you okay? **_

_Are you okay, Annie?_

_**Annie, are you okay? **_

_So, Annie, are you okay?_

_**Are you okay, Annie?**_

_Annie, are you okay?_

_**So, Annie, are you okay, are you okay, Annie? **_

Sebastian kept on singing the verses with me, his eyes never leaving my body, with so much tension as he chased me.

The cellos started to slow down and I walked away from him, partly trying to get as far away as possible from how weird he made me feel but mostly to create a dramatic effect.

I belted out the next line with all my strength, "_I don't know!"_

"_**Will you tell us that you're okay?**__" _He sang, squinting his eyes as if he was focusing on something.

"_I don't know!" _I harmonized with him perfectly.

_**There's a sign in the window.**_

_I don't know! _

_**That he struck you - A crescendo, Annie!**_

_I don't know! _

_**He came into your apartment!**_

_I Don't Know! _

_**Left bloodstains on the carpet!**_

_I Don't Know Why Baby! _

The song began to draw to a close and I could tell that the cellists were thankful to that since their cellos were severed by the intense performance and the strings stood, poised, in different directions.

"_You've been hit by—_

_You've been struck by—_

_A smooth criminal." _ The Warbler and I finished the song perfectly, if I do say so myself, and just stood there in silence, staring at each other, our chests heaving up and down as the cellists packed up and left.

I felt my body tense up as I looked up into his emerald green eyes, not sure what to do, and he stared into my brown ones with equal confusion.

And that was when I felt them.

The butterflies, I mean.

They were parading around in my stomach and I wouldn't have been surprised if Sebastian had heard their wings fluttering.

As his eyes left mine and focused on my lips, my breath caught in my throat and my palms sweated like Niagara Falls.

I almost shivered as electricity ran through my veins and my face got hot.

I stared back at him in wonderment at how his lips were so close.

I was extremely nervous and a million unusual thoughts and emotions I never experienced before flooded through me.

(Excitement, lust, confusion, and fear, to name a few.)

I was so surprised because never in a million years have I thought that another person, namely a guy, could make me feel so many things by doing nothing but stare.

I unconsciously followed suit and stared at his lips thinking of how it would be like to kiss them but I quickly snapped out of my haze because I had a loving girlfriend after all, one that would be crushed if I locked lips with another girl let alone a guy.

_I mean... It wouldn't hurt to experimint, right?_

_No, Santana,_ a voice in my head snapped back trying to knock some sense into me,_ you've tried this before, you've kissed tons of other guys and you know what it feels like and most importantly, you don't like it._

__Another voice boomed through my head telling me that Sebastian wasn't like other guys. He was the first to actually make me feel all fuzzy and weird inside. And quiet frankly it was a good weird.

As soon as I inched a forward a bit, coming closer to him and his luscious pink lips, Brittany's innocent face flasshed before my eyes.

I felt my stomach shamefully churn as the guilt of even coming this close to making out with him washed over me.

So I did the noble thing. I turned around on my heel and briskly walked out of the room before I could change my mind.


	2. 1: Sebastian Smythe

**A/N: Here's the second chapter. I'm so nice that I published it without getting many reviews or alerts. I'm not giving up on this story though because I love it too much to scrap it.**

**Anywhoo...**

**This chappie's in Seb's POV. I know it's kinda short but I felt it had to stop there. Enough of my rambling, Enjoy!**

** Read & hopefully review since they kinda make my day (no pressure).**

**Chapter ONE: SEBASTIAN SMYTHE**

I stood in the dark, empty, chair filled room staring into thin air.

Only one emotion clouded my usually present self-confidence:

Confusion.

I was confused about several things.

I was confused about the warmth I felt spread through my body when she stared at my lips.

I was confused about the urge I felt to push my lips against hers.

I was confused about why I felt my heart literally ripping apart at the sight of her scurrying away, leaving me behind.

The only thing I could see was a replay of how the beautiful Latina's face looked like when her brown eyes bore into my green ones.

Though she didn't say much, her eyes told me all about the feelings she tried to keep in check and her quivering lips gave away all the secret curiosity she felt towards me.

In her eyes I could see a mirror image of what was going on through my mind.

She was scared and so was I.

She was lustful and surprisingly so was I.

She was tempted and you're damn right I was.

She was vulnerable and although I hate to admit it I was too.

She was full of shame but that was the one thing that I didn't feel.

I wasn't ashamed of my secret attraction towards Santana instead I was rather confused.

_Aren't I gay?_ I wondered to myself, _don't I prefer swapping spit with other guys?_

With all those things swirling around in my brain, I dragged my feet across the room, put my hand on the cold brass doorknob, and unlocked the door.

The hallway wasn't completely empty.

I saw Jeff, my roommate, leaning against the well-painted wall, eyeing me with curiosity in his eyes.

"What?" I snapped, slapping on my best show face.

To my complete annoyance Jeff did nothing but chuckle.

"What is it?" I hissed, venom almost seeping from my voice.

"Nothing." Jeff laughed, shaking his head and making his blonde hair ruffle.

"Whatever." I shrugged and my roommate's face fell, clearly not expecting me to drop the topic so easily.

With my signature Smythe smirk I turned around my heel and staggered away.

He knew something was up, I could tell that from how intently he followed me.

Sure, Jeff was an annoyingly nice, thoughtful, guy (unlike yours truly) but he had no drive what so ever and usually gave up whenever I didn't open up to him.

I walked down the expensively decorated hallway with Jeff hot on my heels.

I ignored each and every freshman that was obviously checking me out.

And you don't need a rocket scientist to tell you that that was something completely out of character.

I almost _never_ ignored any hot piece of action instead I would usually try and bed them.

But at that point in my life I didn't even think to glance back at the cute interested guys...

and that was a clear sign that I was in some deep shit.

I bit the inside of my cheeks so badly that I could taste the coppery blood and tried to push past the flood of students.

I finally felt myself breathing again after I managed to make it into the dorms and almost smiled when I saw my plain mahogany door.

I fumbled for the keys in my pocket as I heard Jeff's footsteps closing in on me.

I unlocked the door, quickly rushed into the comfort of my room, and plopped myself on one of the twin beds.

Jeff shut the door and turned around to face me.

"What's up with you, Seb?" He questioned, concern coloring his voice.

"Nothing's up." I said in lame attempt to shrug him off because quiet frankly I, myself, didn't know what the hell _was up_ with me.

"Don't lie to me." Jeff replied, clearly hurt and I told myself that I couldn't care less.

To which Jeff would also say was another one of my lies.

"I saw the way Santana left." Jeff continued after realizing that I preferred ignoring him, "She left in a hurry and she looked kind of freaked out and don't you dare tell me you won your little fight because from what I hear from Blaine I can confidently tell you that _that_ girl loves her dramatic exits."

I felt an uncomfortable pang in my heart hearing him refer to her as _'that girl'. _She's more than just _that_ girl. She's _the_ girl–_Ughh. What the hell's up with me?_

If you had told me just two days earlier that I could feel this overprotective over a _girl_, let alone Santana Lopez, I would've told you that you were nuts in the head. I guess a lot can change in two days.

"What can I say?" I replied, "I crushed her so bad that she didn't care less how _dramatic_ her exit was."

"Don't give me that." Jeff rolled his eyes at me irritating me even further.

"Well, what do you want me to say, Jeff?" I snapped back at him loudly, "That I'm freaked out because I wanted to rip her clothes off? Or, maybe, that I was two inches away from making out from her?"

I wanted to slap myself for letting those words escape my mouth and show him how I felt inside.

Jeff stood there in shock with his mouth flung open so wide that I wouldn't have been surprised if a bunch of flies flew in.

"W-what?" Jeff asked me, wide eyed, "Aren't you supposed to be gay?"

_I don't know what the hell I am anymore. _ I groaned as I stuffed my face into the pillow.

It took Jeff a couple of minutes to compose himself and bend down to sit on the edge of the bed with blue covers.

"Sebastian." He finally said, using my full name, something he rarely did. "Have you ever considered the slight chance that you might be _bi_?"

I quickly snapped my head up from the feather stuffed pillow, "What?"

"Have you ever thought you might be _bisexual_?" Jeff repeated, putting more emphasis on the last word.

_How cute. _

He clearly thought I was clueless to what the word 'bi' meant.

"I know what that means." I quietly mumbled, rubbing my forehead, "And to answer your question. No. _No_. I don't think I am bisexual. Period." I sternly said, trying to convince him.

"I don't know why…" Jeff replied squinting his eyes dubiously, "but I'm having trouble believing you."

"Well." I huffed as I jumped of the bed in anger, "You shouldn't! I am one hundred percent gay!"

"I don't know, man." The blonde said in almost a whisper, "But the things you told me sounded like you weren't."

"I am _gay_!" I replied, my voice raising an octave, not trying to hold back how infuriated I felt.

_Stupid, straight kid! Thinks he knows everything about sexuality!_

"I didn't say you weren't into guys at all." Jeff said, his calmness still intact, angering me to no ends.

Sure, being calm and collected was basically a good thing but right then and there I was surprised to why I didn't slap him silly.

"All I'm saying is that you might be into girls, too." He continued.

"I'm _not_!" I stubbornly crossed my arms._ Maybe just Santana,_ A squeaky voice in my head sounded.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" was the last thing Jeff said before gathering his books and leaving to study in the library. I just stared, speechlessly, as the door slammed shut.

_Well, are you?_ The voice in my head interrogated me further.


	3. 2: Santana Lopez

**A/N: The reason to why I posted this oh so quickly is that I've got finals coming up in less than a week and I won't be back for at least a month but I had this brainstorm and quickly typed the second chapter up. And I also thought it would be nice if I posted this before I start cramming so I wouldn't get distracted. And trust me I get distracted _easily _especially when I'm curious. And I am just that, crurious about your thoughts on this one. I'm happy to say that this was six word documents and 2,000 words long so it should make up for the month I'm about to dissapear in. I'm also happy that I got a number of alerts and a couple of reviews... Keep 'em coming you guys ;) **

**So Anywhoo, Read and Review and make me happy to have posted this oh so early! Much Love, Jewel.**

**P.S: As for my other stories, I'll update them as soon as I can but that'll be after my finals of course. Also if you didn't read my other work, please do.**

**Chapter TWO: Santana Lopez**

I sat in my car staring at my rearview mirror.

I couldn't believe that I failed, that I didn't get the confession out of him.

I just left the room, without a proper confrontation, and why?

Just because it felt a little too hot and my stomach churned probably because of hunger not anything _else_. Especially _not_ butterflies.

I groaned as I rested my head on the steering wheel.

Deep, deep, _deep_ down I knew I was lying to myself about the butterflies but it was too damn scary to admit.

_Dios mío, Santana! _I mentally screamed at myself, _what's wrong with you? You shouldn't be thinking about meerkat face, not ever, unless you're thinking of ways to destroy him… and his pretty face… and his jade eyes…and his—_

_Holy hell, S Lopez, you've got a loving girlfriend with amazing hair and a killer body, and parents supportive enough to accept your _sexuality, _so you should be more than happy._

_But here you are… thinking about a guy. Sebastian Smythe, nonetheless, the most irritating schmuck out there who is supposed to be your new enemy._

I huffed as I raised my head off the steering wheel, turned the key that was already in the ignition, applied some peach lip-gloss with the help of my rearview mirror (a little beautifying goes a _long _way), and started to drive out of the Dalton Academy parking lot.

I decided that the perfect way to get my mind off all this shit was a little retail therapy…with the girl I _loved._

I stopped at a red light and dropped Brittany a quick text.

_Hey, Britts, how about we have a little shopping trip?_

_-S_

Less than a second later I got a reply.

_I wud live to, Sannie._

_-B_

_Great. Meet me at the Lima Mall._

_-S_

I smiled as I threw my phone on the drivers seat and turned the radio on to keep my brain busy by singing along.

And _surprise, surprise._

The first thing that came up was none other than Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson.

I screamed as my hand flew to the radio to change the station.

I wouldn't have been surprised if Sebastian knew that I decided to listen to the radio at that exact moment and was somewhere in Dalton, wedged in a corner, phone in hand, requesting the radio station to play the song, just to piss me off and mess with my head. But I knew that was impossible.

Sure, Sebastian was evil to the core but he wasn't a psychic… _Was he?_

I almost laughed at the thought of Sebastian wearing a headdress, with a crystal ball splayed on the table before him, holding up tarot cards and predicting the future.

_Dammit! Stop thinking about him! Think about Britt-Britt and how much you adore her._

The light turned green and I quickly pressed the gas pedal, taking off.

I sat on the bench in front of the indoor fountain, waiting for Brittany to arrive.

She was an hour late. _Where is she?_ I quickly sprang up and started to pace around the fountain impatiently.

The impatience that fueled me shocked the hell out of me.

I usually wouldn't have minded waiting for Brittany. I could've waited for her day and night, for hours on end but right then I couldn't have been more pissed at her.

_She's probably lost in her own bathroom wondering how the fuck to get out._

Oh. _Damn_. I couldn't believe that that thought crossed my mind. _I deserve to be dragged to the inner pits of hell. How the hell can I even _think_ that about her? She's Brittany. She was supposed to be clueless and I was supposed to be defending her whenever people called her stupid not call her that myself. _

_I'm. Such. A. Bitch._

Then I saw her walking up to me, her eyes shining, her lips smiling, her blonde hair bouncing.

She was genuinely happy to see me. I waited for a smile to creep up my face but it never came.

"Hi, Sannie!" Brittany said pulling me into a hug but my body went stiff and I didn't hug her back like I was supposed to.

"Hi." I replied as she broke away from me. I could see the confusion clouding her eyes and the frown threatening to appear on her lips. She was _hurt_. I felt like such a bitch but I wasn't able to do anything to control it.

It was like someone else was controlling me and that I was just standing by letting him do the damage.

One face crept up my mind and, of course, it was Sebastian's.

And _no_ it wasn't the singing crab from _The Little Mermaid._ Although I wished with every cell in my body that it was that damn crustacean.

_What the hell is Sebastian doing to me?_

I almost screamed in horror as the realization ambushed me. Sebastian Smythe was controlling me.

"What do you think of this one?" Brittany asked me for the third time, trying to get me out of my stance but miserably failing.

I was sitting on a beanbag propped right in front of the dressing rooms and the mirror in the shop, staring at the ground and trying to get my mind not to roam back to he who shall not be named.

_Sebastian Smythe's his name, Sannie bear, I can't believe you forgot it already! _ A sarcastic voice in my head tried to _innocently_ remind me._ I don't know how you forgot how pretty his green curious eyes were, how his tall body was almost touching yours, and how his—_

"Santana!" Brittany whined, stomping her feet like a five year old that was about to have a tantrum, "What do you think of Sebastian?"

"W-w-hat?" I stuttered nervously terrified to hear the same name I was thinking of coming out of her lips.

"I said, 'What do you think of this one?'" Brittany replied, motioning towards the electric blue dress she was wearing.

It was short, only reaching her mid thigh, and successfully exposed her creamy white and well toned legs.

It was also tight.

I gave it a second glance.

_Very tight, actually._

Brittany turned around to show me the back of the dress only for me to realize that it was completely backless and exposed her bare back and stopped a little before her ass.

I stood there, my eyes on at her back, waiting for something intense and powerful to wash over me.

I waited for that _something _that a certain somebody made me feel.

I didn't understand a thing.

I should've been intoxicated.

I should've been excited.

I should've been lustful.

I should've been telling her how damn sexy she was.

I should've been convincing her to buy the dress only to rip it off later in the comfort of her bedroom.

I should've been…

I should've been all of those things that I was when I was with Sebastian Smythe…

And _it_ terrified me.

"Santana?" Brittany turned around to examine the expression on my face and figure out why I was so silent, "Is it _that_ bad?"

She looked down at the dress confusedly.

"No, it's not." I said.

"Then, why are you so quiet?" She questioned with a little hurt coloring her voice.

_Yeah, why are you so quiet?_ The bitchy little voice in my head asked mockingly.

"B-because you're so beautiful." I said in an unconvincing tone. _That's it, _I thought, _she looks so beautiful that I was speechless._

"Really?" Her eyes lit up.

"Really." I repeated but I felt that same uncomfortable stomach ache that always accompanied my lies.

I looked back at Brittany, with that big grin on her face, her blonde hair flowing down to the side of her neck, the sexy dress she was wearing.

Yeah, Brittany did look beautiful.

_But is that why you were speechless, Satan?_ The voice said in an almost mocking tone. _Is that why you're stomach fucking hurts and not in a good way?_

I shook it off and walked up to her.

"You're so beautiful, Britt." I said, ignoring my stomach and the voice, as I laid my lips on hers.

"Let's get out of here." Brittany said with a suggestive wink.

An hour later, after purchasing the dress, getting to the car, ripping up the ticket on the windshield of the car, and driving through traffic, Brittany and I lay in bed… **fully clothed**.

Sure, the girl tried to get it on but I wasn't in the mood at all even after I shut that bitchy voice in my head up.

So instead we kept things PG-13.

I stared at the ceiling as she left a trail of kisses on my neck. It was a nice looking ceiling with pink flowers and vines hand painted on—

_What the fuck is wrong with me? _

_Brittany, the girl I love, is trying to make out with me and all I can seem to think about is how good the ceiling looked?_

I raised her chin up so I could place a kiss.

I closed my eyes as my lips met hers but all that I could see was Sebastian Fucking Smythe's face with that stupid smirk of his. What the hell was I doing thinking about—

"Sebastian."

_Oh. My. Fucking. God._

_Did I just say his name when I'm making out with Brittany?_

Brittany quickly pulled away and stared at me with confused eyes, "What did you say?"

_Oh, shit, I did just say his name when I was making out with Brittany._

"N-nothing."

"Weird." Brittany shrugged, "I thought I heard someone saying 'Sebastian' I guess it must be Lord Tubbington watching _The Little Mermaid _again."

She even rolled her eyes as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

I was speechless but before I could think of a proper way to react the blonde girl started to kiss my already parted lips again.

"Brittany." I said into her lips.

"Santana." She murmured, trying to deepen the kiss.

"I'm not in the mood." I said, as I pulled away and fumbled to grab my phone and shopping bag.

"See you later." was the last thing I said before I rushed out of her house.


	4. 3: Sebastian Smythe

**A/N: Okay, Okay! I know I'm veeerrry late and I give you full permission to hate me but I do hope you'll love this enough to continue reading! Review and tell me how I did! Although you know this math lesson pretty well I will take the honor to jog your memory ... Reviews+Alerts=happywriter=quickerupdates.**

**Thanks!**

**-Jewel**

2: Sebastian Smythe

The smell of teenage B.O wafting around made me scrunch up my nose, the sweaty hallways left my eyebrows raised, and how horribly the student body dressed and acted traumatized me. Because of the many distractions, I almost forgot the main reason I was there with the other Warblers. I remembered the curious call I got from Kurt asking to meet us in the April Rhodes auditorium (this was going to be _entertaining_) a couple of days after my encounter with the Devil herself. In no time a smirk was plastered on my face and my nose was raised up high. Bitch Mode on. It was time to get my head in the game. I was kind of nervous but I hoped that my competitiveness would mask that from everyone, including myself. God, I shouldn't be nervous. I already saw Satan a few times before this… at the Lima Bean when I told her we were doing Michael, too, then at our Michael-off in the parking lot before I threw that damn slushy, and then at Dalton when we sang together... then everything. Fucking. Changed. All the rich boy pride I had —boom— gone. There was just something about the way she always challenged me and demanded my respect and attention, there was also something about how passionate and soul-baring she was whenever she sang on her own and the was definitely something about that damn black dress I couldn't get out of my mind for the past few days.

"Umm, are you sure this is a good idea, guys?" Wondered a slightly nervous Nick as he toyed with his long fingers.

"Relax, bro." Jeff said playfully punching his shoulder, "It'll be fine."

"Yeah." Silently agreed a more than terrified Trent, trying to mostly convince himself.

"Be quiet." I instructed as we followed the directions given to us by a scrawny geek with some serious fro and a pair of way too tiny glasses framing his face.

"Nice of you to show." Said that wheelchair kid I didn't bother to learn the name of after we entered the auditorium.

"Is whatever this is gonna take long?" I didn't bother to keep up a polite façade because everyone knew I'd rather be picking daises with a rainbow colored unicorn than be there (well, kinda), "I can't stand the stench of public schools."

It was a pompous and snobby thing to say but I wanted to seem unaffected by a certain somebody's presence. I almost flinched when I saw how her expression was scrunched up in annoyance, from the corner of my eye.

"Oh, it won't take long." A blond girl with a hideous ensemble on confirmed. "And all you have to do is sit and listen."

It was then that we were all seated and I gave the people on stage a nod, letting them know we were ready for whatever they whip out.

"We're not doing Michael for Regionals." Stated the wheelchair kid.

"I didn't think you'd surrender that easily." I said, staring at Santana, slightly sending her a telepathic message. I was still kind of pissed at how things happened when we were last together and especially at how she retreated, how she _surrendered_. She seemed to have gotten the message because, for a slight second, when no one else noticed but me, her hard mask fell off and she looked vulnerable. And I felt kinda bad to have blurted out such an impulsive comment… _kinda_. But as soon as I blinked, all that fear and vulnerability, it was all gone. And she was back to being an ice queen bitch extraordinaire and I was back to being a selfish uncaring dick.

Then his royal gayness started to blab something about show choirs and sticking together. I didn't really bother enough to listen; his voice was just too irritating for me to even concentrate on the words coming out of his mouth and that Mohawk wannabe badass said something about high roads and marijuana which I thought wasn't witty or original at all. I didn't really pay full attention to what they said and just stared at Satan, all _cute_ (blech, I even hate thinking that word) in her little cheerleading uniform, and trying to ignore my clammy hands and thudding heart. And she was staring at her white sneakers and playing with the tip of her ponytail, trying her best not to look at my face, which was totally out of character from the Santana I knew. Soon, enough, my bitch mode was turned off—if only for her sake.

But before I could think some more about it, something that wheelchair kid said broke my trance and took my gaze off her and transferred it to him.

"Just because you're doing Michael doesn't mean you understand him."

"Oh. And you do?" I scoffed, trying to make it sound as snarky as possible.

"Yes." Said the overweight diva that was in dire need of a dietary change, "And we're about to show you."

Music soon filled the auditorium and they started to dance about whilst the kid in the wheel chair began to sing. It was all really sweet and dandy but painfully boring. It was all painfully boring…except for maybe one certain Latina. I couldn't help my gaze from wandering over to her as she danced and sang along without a care in the world, the nervous Santana he saw earlier forgotten. I felt myself actually smile but as soon as Jeff, who sat next to me, playfully punched me (he seemed to love doing that) I let the smile drop and my eyes to wander off to something else. I could almost hear my roommate's eyes rolling in his sockets. Although, soon enough, my gaze somehow found its way back to her swaying hips that moved so gracefully, and her carefree smile, that was so sexy that even I felt like doing her right then and there.

But I didn't, obviously because I was supposed to be fucking gay.

It had been a week and a half (and, yes, I was counting) since I last saw her but that didn't mean that she didn't plague my every thought. I saw her face everywhere I looked and frankly I was scared shitless enough to even think that Jeff might've been right about my being 'bi-curious'. But, of course, I didn't give him the satisfaction of telling him that. I was cruel and horrible and I knew I couldn't possibly be in possession of a heart but it seemed that I ironically do have one, a heart that is. And it fucking hurt me each and every time I remembered how she rushed away from me as if I were toxic acid or had herpes or had a receding hair line or maybe, even worse, wore onesies. Shudder.

And I never, in my whole life, was in possession of any of those things so why was she so focused on running away? Sure, I knew she was scared, hell, I was too but I never denied that there was _something_ there, a spark. I knew it sounded cheesy, cliché and not Sebastian Smythe at all but I knew it was true. I knew that I had an attraction, if not feelings, for Santana Lopez. As I took off my uniform in the empty room Jeff had abandoned to study in the library (obviously still a bit touchy with me), I came to a revelation. I decided to forget the fucking fear and doubts I had. I was Sebastian Smythe I shouldn't have wasted my time with fear because it should've been an unknown feeling for me in the first place. And the doubts I had? Fuck them; life was too short to even have them. I decided that attraction, especially one as strong as mine was to her was, has no sex.

As I finally tucked myself into bed I came to terms that I wanted—no, needed Santana Lopez, not just as a sex doll but as a whole person, too, (after all, she was the only person that could ever challenge and somehow manage to keep up with me), and I was going to do everything in my power to get her.

The next day, we continued rehearsing for Regionals, and because of the MJ truce we agreed to, we weren't singing any Michael songs. We were practicing a song in Dave's honor after his suicide attempt so we could collect some donations, that was partly because I was guilty as hell (I would never have admitted to this) and mostly because the others agreed it would be very thoughtful and considerate. The second number was less dull and more my style. It was an upbeat song by some British boy band, which at that point I didn't even bother to gawk at because of the strange, little, and slightly embarrassing commitment I had to a gay girl I barely knew. It was then that I knew I had it bad.

After a week full of rehearsals by day and a few stolen thoughts about her (that still had me a bit frustrated and confused) by night, Regionals finally opened its doors. And I could finally see her again, standing there with a huge smile... on stage and as much as I wanted her to be smiling at me I was glad to at least see her again. _Surprisingly_, they were really good. Who knew that Santana and Blaine could even rap? Of course, Jeff somehow caught wind of what I was thinking and where my lustful eyes were lingering and said in a mostly teasing tone, "Not bi at all, huh, Seb?"

"Shut up, Jeff." I hushed him more quietly than I usually would have because I was too busy looking at the beauty on stage as the other members file off, leaving a handful of girls I didn't even bother to glance at.

The 'Fly/ I believe I can fly' mash up then turned into another song by one of his idols, Kelly Clarkson. The group started humming to the beat as their shoulders swayed along but I wasn't prepared at all when Santana dominated the stage. Her voice was more amazing than I remembered, which I truly and vividly did (I sometimes even heard her soft voice singing the chorus to smooth criminal whenever I was alone), as if that were possible to begin with. If that sappy Jeff were to describe the look I shot her he would've said something along the lines of, "A very giddy look". Her dark brown eyes caught my green ones and I actually saw a flash of joy. It was brief and quick but I had definitely seen it…and I hoped that I wasn't wrong or delusional as I decided how to approach her after the winner was announced.

They had won and oddly I didn't care because, frankly, my mind was too busy plotting. I looked at the winning glee club and couldn't help but feel my heart well up and not with anger but with some sense of pride. _No_, I wasn't proud of them. And, _yes_, I was proud of Santana because she had earned it with her badass attitude, her flirty dance moves and her demanding presence on stage.

I somehow managed to grab her backstage and take her to what I had hoped was the only empty place, the janitor's closet _without_ a wrestling match. And I took that as a good sign.

"What is wrong with you, Smythe?" She demanded in a soft voice, far from the icy one I had heard her use multiple times before. Santana tried her best to stay as far away from me as possible in that cramped space and only got as far as a foot away so I wasn't that bothered.

"Nothing." I simply said, "I just wanted to talk to you, alone."

"Well, then, talk." was her less than dramatic reply.

After gathering all my courage, I bluntly spelled it out for her: "I want you, Satan."

"Wait!" She freaked out, quickly regaining her sass, "Hold up, Twink! I am gay and the last time I checked, you were, too."

"Beauty has no gender." I replied, "And attraction doesn't either."

"So, lemme get this straight, you little Bitchlet." She said with a little laugh, "You want me because I'm hot but you don't care about the fact that I ain't a dude and that you're gay."

"Bisexual, actually." I corrected her without hesitation. And, looking back, I didn't realize that it was my first time admitting it because it didn't feel forced or wrong or a lie… it actually felt like a natural thing to say, it felt right and truthful. "But more or less, yeah."

"What are you suggesting, Smythe?" She asked, her voice quickly switching back to her frightened and hushed one, leaving ice bitch aside and regaining her nervous persona instead.

"What do _you_ think I'm suggesting, Lopez?" I echoed.

"I think you're suggesting that we become friends with benefit."

"No." I blurted out before I could rationally think this through; "I don't want you as a fucking booty call. I want _all_ of you, you heartless bitch!"

"What about Britta—

I didn't even let her finish that sentence before I smashed my lips onto hers. At first she was stiff and reluctant but soon enough she was just as eager as I was to deepen the kiss. I felt emotions I never experienced before hit me like a ton of bricks, leaving me almost paralyzed. Just because her lips tasted like an exotic lip balm I never tasted before, because her hair felt as soft as silk as I combed my fingers through it, because her tongue was in flawless rhythm with mine and her arms were around my neck like so, I felt a surge of excitement, longing, and even a bit of invigoration surge through my veins and into my heart, making it beat faster only to repeat that process all over again, making me experience the emotions anew. In a few short words, it was the best kiss I ever had in my life and was disappointed to see Satan pull away from me, panting.

"I have a girlfriend, Sebastian." She whimpered and I noticed that for the first time she had called me by my real name and I frankly liked it better than the name calling thing they had going on.

"It's okay to _want_ things, Santana." I whispered as I let her rest her head back on my chest with my arms still around her waist. This whole process seemed like second nature to me, it felt so natural and so unlike many of the post-make out session experiences I had with other boys but I put that revelation aside for a minute to try and comfort her by rubbing her back as she softly sobbed.

"No." She quietly protested, pulling away from me with tears steaming down her face and it killed me that she wouldn't let me come close enough, again, so that I could wipe them away, "Not if it's wrong. I can't do this to Britt. She's my girlfriend. She's supposed to be the love of my life."

And with that, Santana wiped away her own tears, tried to get her hair to look decent and unlocked the door, leaving me behind, feeling as crushed as ever at the words she just told me.


End file.
